


Flickers

by Charlynch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Gay Nuns, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, The Gang’s All Here - Freeform, religious imagery with a side of lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlynch/pseuds/Charlynch
Summary: here’s some vintage (tm) trash i wrote in 2015After being struck by a poison-tipped arrow, Cassandra is out of action for a few weeks. Luckily, Leliana is around to keep her company. Bored of the endless political discussion around the camp, Sera decides to try her hand at some match-making.Slow-burn trying to balance lightheartedness and a grim undertone.





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh bollocky shitwank,“ Sera yelped, as Cassandra levelled a hefty punch at the elf‘s head. She moved just in time, grunting in frustration. “I‘m trying to help!“  
“Keep. Your. Hands. Off. My. Person,“ Cassandra said through gritted teeth, drawing away from Sera sharply and letting out a hiss of pain. An arrow stuck out of her shoulder, the shaft darkened with blood. A steady fount of crimson flooded down her front. Sera watched, bemused as Cassandra tried once again to rip the arrow out and more blood pulsed freely from her shoulder as she roared in pain.  
“If you hadn‘t messed about with it like an arse, you wouldn‘t be bleeding out,“ Sera observed unhelpfully, ducking as Cassandra attempted to take another swing at her. The Inquisitor galumphed over, and Cassandra made a noise of disgust.  
“I think that means she reckons you‘re even more useless than I am,“ Sera said.  
“You are correct,“ Cassandra confirmed acidly.  
“Big useless Qunari hands,“ Sera qualified, grinning.  
“Yeah because you‘re the best healer from here to... somewhere far away,“ the Inquisitor replied with mock offence.  
“Can you stop flirting for five seconds and find somebody who isn‘t a tremendous idiot?“ Cassandra asked, shakily adjusting her sitting position to try and better see her wound. Due to her armour, she was having a hard time seeing the full extent of the damage, but the strange burning sensation spreading across her chest told her the arrow tip had been slicked with poison.  
“You‘re the one with the dirty great arrow sticking out your shoulder,“ muttered Sera, but she got up and went to assist Vivienne in finishing off the last of the bandits who were responsible for Cassandra‘s injury. Usually, the group dispatched the Hinterlands‘ scattered groups of bandit nuisances with relative ease, but in a moment of post-rift-sealing arrogance, they had charged into battle and neglected to check the perimeter for archers. Cassandra had soundly trounced her attacker for his trouble (indeed, one of his arms lay a few feet away from where she sat.) but thanks to the arrow‘s poison, another unaccounted for factor, she had succumbed to exhaustion and had been forced to retire to the sidelines whilst Vivienne and the Inquisitor tried to beat back the rest of the bandits and Sera had tried and failed to staunch the blood gushing from Cassandra‘s shoulder. The Inquisitor hovered awkwardly, torn between leaving Cassandra to harass her wound some more, or risking a clout on the head to try and help. Her indecision was short-lived however, as Sera and Vivienne appeared at her side moments later, Sera wiping blood spatter off her nose (“Bugger got up too close for arrows, had to go all knifey-stab and poke a hole in him.“) and Vivienne looking both spotless and unruffled, though amused at the sight of the Seeker sitting moodily in a puddle of her own gore.  
“My dear you look _ghastly_, you‘ve aged twenty years in twenty minutes,“ she exclaimed, folding her arms and examining Cassandra critically. “Blood loss _will _do that to you; come on, I shall stop the bleeding and we can get you back to Haven where a better healer than I can address your wounds properly.“  
“Can‘t you fix it here?“ the Inquisitor asked, crouching to hand Cassandra a water skin, from which she drunk deeply and gratefully. She was growing greyer and paler by the minute.  
“No. If it‘s stuck in bone, trying to get it out will just make things worse,“ Vivienne said with such authority that nobody noticed she wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about, stepping back as the Inquisitor helped Cassandra to her feet. “And from the look of her, I‘d imagine that arrow was tipped with poison. I'm a mage, not a healer.“  
“Once you‘re all finished talking about me like I‘m not here,“ Cassandra interjected acerbically. “I‘d rather like some medical attention.“  
The Inquisitor nodded and whistled for her horse as Vivienne applied some sort of blue-green healing magic to Cassandra‘s wound. It did not heal, but the bloodflow slowed. Moments later, the beast appeared at her side, an enormous strawberry roan gelding with a white blaze and a wall eye. Cassandra and the horse looked at each other with dislike.  
“Falling from that beast will kill me sooner than any poisoned arrow,“ Cassandra protested, but the Inquisitor was already shoving her into the saddle. Grudgingly, she adjusted her seat and took the reins in her uninjured hand, sagging slightly. She flushed with embarrassment as the Inquisitor adjusted the stirrups, feeling like a child.  
“Sera, ride ahead with her,“ the Inquisitor said, beckoning the archer, who promptly laughed in her face.  
“I‘d sooner carry her myself, mate,“ Sera replied. “That thing‘s massive. Dunno how to ride a horse anyway.“  
“Learn,“ advised Vivienne as Sera too was lifted bodily into the saddle by the Inquisitor.  
“You‘re rubbish,“ Sera complained. “Just ‘cause you‘re bigger than us. How come she doesn‘t have to take her? How come you don‘t?“  
“Because you‘re lighter than me and you‘ll get there faster. And Vivienne doesn‘t want to,“ the Inquisitor replied, stretching expansively and beginning to walk ahead. The horse immediately started to follow his master.  
“_I _don‘t want to!“ Sera bellowed, and the horse flattened his ears.  
“Can I politely remind you bickering children that I am bleeding out,” Cassandra croaked peevishly. Sera let out a loud, theatrical groan and kicked the horse into an uneven trot. It was readily apparent that the Inquisitor‘s horse disliked the elf just as much as Sera disliked him. Cassandra held herself stiffly in the saddle, gripping the back of the saddle with her free hand so tight her knuckles turned white, as Sera pressed the horse on at a gentle lope.  
“His name is Tristabelle, by the way,“ the Inquisitor called as the distance between them grew. Cassandra looked back and watched the trees swallow Vivienne and the Inquisitor as they rode onward through the wood.

***

Sera was unusually quiet as they rode, and Cassandra did not attempt to start conversation, focusing on staying conscious. She supposed the girl had directed all of her attention at keeping control over the Inquisitor‘s rather unruly and spoiled mount. Occasionally, Sera would apologise for the bumpy terrain or whisper “shhh“ at nobody in particular when she spotted signs of enemies on their path.  
“Here,“ Sera said suddenly, long after night had cast a velvety shadow across their path. “I should probably be making sure you don‘t go unconscious or summat. Keep you occupied. Get a bit of banter going, keep you awake and that.“  
“I can assure you I am doing just fine,“ Cassandra replied.  
“If you and a nug got into a fight but the nug was as big as a dragon, who would win?“  
“Leliana,“ Cassandra replied immediately.  
“Where does she come into it?“ Sera asked, twisting in the saddle to glower at Cassandra for dodging her question.  
“If she had heard I had so much as looked the wrong way at a nug, I‘m certain she‘d have me killed in my bed,“ Cassandra said flatly. “She is fond of them.“  
“That‘s a good point,“ Sera mused thoughtfully, scratching her chin. “She‘s quite scary. All that cloak-and-dagger-hood-up-can‘t-see-my-face-spymaster pish. Bit _unnerving_.“  
“She is no bark and all bite,“ Cassandra answered.  
“And you‘re the opposite,“ Sera quipped, the grin in her voice apparent. She threw herself down onto the horse‘s neck to avoid a punch in the back of the head from Cassandra and sent the beast into a frenzied gallop. When at last they stopped, Sera was cackling wildly and Cassandra had turned the colour of soured milk. Fortunately, their journey was almost over; Sera‘s face was green in the light of the breach as they drew closer to Haven, the terrain growing more mountainous, patches of snow growing more and more frequent. As the snow increased, so too did Sera‘s observations that most of the countryside was “rubbish“ or “creepy“. Cassandra didn‘t bother to respond, content to focus on Sera‘s endless wittering about various things she wasn‘t much interest in to keep from falling asleep. Her eyelids were heavy and whilst Vivienne‘s magic had clotted the blood initially, her shoulder had gradually started to bleed again, a cruel burning sensation radiating from the entry wound whenever she was jostled in the saddle. Thankfully, Tristabelle, as disagreeable as the gelding was, had a very smooth gait and Cassandra did not find herself shunted about too much. Sera too seemed relatively at ease in the saddle, though she struggled to keep the horse from pausing to snatch mouthfuls of foliage from the roadside. As the hours crawled past, Cassandra felt the sweat beading on her forehead, somehow too cold and too hot all at once. Her entire side was numb now, her arm dangling uselessly at her side. As she experimentally tried to make a fist, nothing happened. No doubt the poison had spread enough to render the affected side paralysed.  
“S‘good you‘re so calm,“ Sera said conversationally. “I heard panicking can make poison spread faster. Nearly there by the way. Somebody will be able to fix you, probably.“  
When they eventually arrived at Haven, Sera pressed the horse through the snow and jumped off at the gates. She handed the reins to Cullen, who looked bemused.  
“The Inquisitor sent a message ahead to say you‘d be coming back with Cassandra. Interestingly, she did not think to inform me that Cassandra has become a human pin-cushion,“ he said, looking at the horse with unease as Sera tried to yank Cassandra out of the saddle. The Seeker slid to the ground, almost crumpling on impact, trembling for a moment before turning away to vomit.  
“Poison,“ Sera told Cullen cheerfully. “Put the horse in the stables, I‘m taking her to get fixed. It‘s just like a big dog. The horse I mean, not Cassandra.“  
Cullen, stunned at Sera‘s commands, nodded mutely and led the horse away as the elf threw Cassandra‘s arms over her shoulders and hefted her up the steps. It was slow progress; however, they stopped short of where Cassandra was expecting to be led.  
“To what do I owe the honour of such a late night visit?“ asked a familiar voice. “Maker! What happened to you?“  
Leliana‘s pale, concerned face swam into view. Cassandra attempted to explain but instead uttered a near inaudible stream of garbled nonsense.  
“Stuck with an arrow, innit?“ said Sera simply. “Shitehawk caught her in the shoulder. Reckon it‘s poisoned.“  
“Bring her in here, though why I was your first choice I cannot fathom,“ Leliana said, shouldering Cassandra on the other side and assisting Sera in lifting her onto the narrow cot in the tent. “I‘m not a healer, Sera. Leave her here for now, I‘ll stay with her if you fetch Adan; he‘ll be more use against the poison than anybody else I‘d imagine.“  
“It was her first choice because she is an idiot,“ supplied Cassandra from the bunk.  
“‘Cause you act like you know everything,“ Sera said blithely, ignoring Cassandra. “Reckoned you‘d know how to fix that as well.“  
She shrugged and bolted off to fetch the poor-tempered man from the apothecary. Leliana did not envy her the task; she knew that being woken up by noisy, bad-mannered elf girls was probably not one of Adan‘s favourite things. She busied herself putting water on to boil to clean the wound, and pouring Cassandra a stiff drink.  
“Legacy White Shear,“ Cassandra remarked as she downed the whisky. “It must be strong poison to deserve such a strong drink. You‘re not about to tell me I‘m going to die, are you?“  
“No,“ said Leliana, amused by Cassandra‘s lackadaisical response to apparent paralysis of half of her body. “I‘m just very aware that somebody is going to have to pull that arrow out at some point.“  
Cassandra grimaced and lay back down on the cot, wincing. Leliana fished through her belongings and found a leather gauntlet, which she tossed at Cassandra as Sera entered the tent.  
“Bite down on that when he pulls it out,“ Leliana advised, and Cassandra nodded. Sera looked a bit ill.  
“Says he‘ll be here as soon as he can, he had to get some stuff first,“ Sera said, jerking her head in what was presumably Adan‘s direction.  
“Good. Thank you. Help me get her out of her armour,“ Leliana said, gently easing Cassandra into a sitting position. Sera giggled a bit, but one look from Cassandra silenced her, and she set about assisting Leliana in removing the armour. Her clothing underneath was soaked with red, turning stiff and coppery as the blood dried. Sera gave Cassandra funny look.  
“You smell weird,“ she said suspiciously.  
“Excuse me?“  
“All“¦ fancy. Blood too. But under that, you smell like those funny pink Qunari sweets the Inquisitor eats,“ Sera insisted. Cassandra turned away, looking slightly embarrassed as Leliana leaned in slightly, and started laughing.  
“Rose oil, Cassandra? You‘re more of a hopeless romantic than I thought,“ Leliana teased.  
“Far from hopeless,“ Cassandra deadpanned. “As I recall, I have not been the one wandering the camp mooning over letters and clutching them to my heart dramatically when nobody is looking.“  
“Rose oil is a bit daft though,“ Sera added. “Never pegged you for a pansy. Never pegged you at all, come to think of it.“  
“I am not a _pansy_,“ Cassandra said crossly. “Is it so wrong to like nice things?“  
“Vivienne likes nice things. _You‘re _a pansy,“ Sera said firmly, though neither she nor Leliana said anything else as Cassandra looked mutinous and Sera had not forgotten the various attempts at assault conducted since Cassandra had first been wounded. Fortunately for the spymaster and the thief, and perhaps Cassandra too, Adan bustled into the tent, arms full of various intriguing looking bottles and tinctures. He shooed Sera and Leliana out of the way.  
“Sorry to trouble you so late, Adan,“ Cassandra said, her voice strained as he examined her wound.  
“Not a problem,“ he said shortly in such a way that implied it had indeed been at least somewhat of a problem. “Whatever poison was on that arrow had an anti-coagulant in it, that will be why you‘ve lost so much blood. I can see somebody, Lady Vivienne I presume, has tried to at least clot the blood, but it doesn‘t seem to have worked.“  
“Will the effects of the poison be permanent?“ asked Leliana worriedly.  
“I cannot say; I‘m not sure precisely which poison was used, though the paralysis the elf girl described suggests to me it‘s perhaps soldier‘s bane in some form,” Adan spoke more to himself than to Leliana. So suddenly Leliana jumped in fright, Adan had signalled for Sera to jam the gauntlet into Cassandra‘s mouth and hold her down whilst he produced a small silver knife and widened the entry wound the arrow had made, sliding a finger in alongside the shaft to feel for the arrow tip. Cassandra bellowed in pain, her voice so full of agony that even Leliana winced slightly. Tears had sprung to the Seeker‘s eyes. After a few painful that seconds that felt like minutes, Adan was able to gently withdraw the arrow from Cassandra‘s shoulder, letting a fresh gush of blood come with it.  
“Sick,“ remarked Sera, moving safely out of striking distance as Cassandra pulled the leather gauntlet out of her mouth and threw it on the floor in disgust.  
“There was no need to- I would have simply remained still if you had asked,“ she protested angrily, attempting to stand up and immediately sitting back down again. Adan ignored her.  
“She won‘t be able to use that arm for a few days, but she won‘t be fit for battle for at least few weeks. Clean her up, spread some of the tincture I left on the table on the wound, and bandage it tightly. She‘s going to be feverish, so stay with her through the night, if she gets any worse fetch me. Have a mage see to her in the morning, they‘ll be able to heal the wound but the poison will take longer to wear off. I‘m back off to bed now that we‘ve confirmed the Lady Seeker is in no immediate danger,“ Adan said, bowing his head at the three astounded women and taking his leave.  
“Bet I could‘ve done that,“ Sera muttered. “Arse.“  
For once, Cassandra rather agreed with her.  
“There is a room inside the Chantry you can sleep in; you‘ve lost so much blood I‘d rather you didn‘t sleep out in the cold,“ Leliana said, sounding uncharacteristically motherly. “I‘ll have it made ready for us.“�

***

It seemed an evening for unusual behaviours; once again, Cassandra was surprised at herself when she did not protest Leliana‘s suggestion; the cold had bitten cruelly at her skin and her extremities had turned bluish. It seemed Leliana was only gone moments before she had returned and, with Sera‘s aid, moved Cassandra into the Chantry. The room she had mentioned had been made ready with a fire in the grate, the torches lit, and two bedrolls furnished with an unnecessary number of blankets. Sera disappeared and came back with Cassandra‘s armour and weapons, dropping them unceremoniously onto the rug in front of the fire.  
“Swish place this,“ Sera said, sitting at the end of Cassandra‘s bedroll. “How come nobody was already in here?“  
“We just found the key today, couldn‘t get in before,“ Leliana explained. “Nobody had claimed it, so I rather suppose its Cassandra‘s quarters. At least whilst she‘s too wounded for anybody to argue.“  
Leliana passed the Seeker a steaming cup of some type of herbal tea that was supposed to help with fever symptoms. Adan had left it alongside the tincture and wound dressings, though according to the expression on Cassandra‘s face upon taking a sip, she probably would have preferred the fever to the tea.  
“He was a bit crap for a healer, wasn‘t he?“ said Sera ruefully. “Poking holes in you, giving you pisswater to drink then buggering off. That‘s not very... healermanly of him.“  
“I am not an important casualty,“ said Cassandra, waving away Sera‘s sympathies. “It is nothing severe. He said I will be fine in a few days.“  
“Weeks,“ corrected Leliana. “He just said you‘ll be able to use your arm again in a few days. I hope you enjoy my company, because it looks like I have been assigned the task of nursemaid.“  
“If it helps I can nick some of them pansy roses sweets from the Inquisitor,“ Sera suggested unhelpfully. “Cheer you up. Smile‘s the best medicine and all that. Plus I like nicking things.“  
“You will not steal on my behalf,“ Cassandra asserted stonily, and her expression left no room for arguing, though Sera looked a little crestfallen that her suggestion hadn‘t been well received.  
“She only mean because she‘s tired,“ Leliana said patronisingly, biting her lip to avoid laughing at the sour look Cassandra threw at her. Leliana busied herself with examining Cassandra‘s wound critically.  
“Can I help?“ piped Sera, leaning in to stare at the bloody hole in Cassandra‘s shirt as though she‘d gain some understanding on how to cure the Seeker.  
“Yes; would you mind awfully fetching the water I boiled from my tent?“ Leliana asked. “I need it to clean this up.“  
Sera nodded and slipped out the door to do as Leliana had asked.  
“She is... energetic,“ Cassandra said quietly.  
“I like her,“ replied Leliana with a smile. “And I think she rather likes you. She has a good heart. Take your shirt off, I need to see your wound properly to clean it. I promise I won‘t look.“  
Cassandra grudgingly attempted to remove her shirt, eventually allowing Leliana to help ease it off on her wounded side as her arm still lay there uselessly. Leliana politely averted her eyes.  
“Bloody hell,“ squeaked Sera, almost slopping the pot of boiled water down her front in her haste to look anywhere but at Cassandra. “You didn‘t tell me you were shacking up in here.“  
“We‘re not,“ Cassandra and Leliana insisted in unison as Cassandra drew the blanket safely up to chest height.  
“More the pity,“ said Sera cheerfully, recovering from her initial shock quickly and bringing Leliana the water. She watched with interest as the woman carefully tended to Cassandra‘s wounds, washing away the crusted blood and the strange, sticky residue she could only assume was a result of the poison. Finally, after what felt like an age, Leliana had cleaned the wound to her satisfaction, applied a thick coat of the tincture which smelled like an odd combination of grass, pine needles and incense, and bandaged Cassandra so extensively one would have been forgiven for thinking her entire arm had been hacked to bits as opposed to her shoulder. The Seeker was at last given Leliana‘s permission to “try and get some sleep“�. Cassandra dozed off near immediately once she had settled into bed, though Leliana and Sera sat up together a little later playing cards in comfortable quiet. Once Leliana had fleeced Sera of nearly everything she had ("Never gamble with a spymaster.") and Sera herself was certain Cassandra was comfortable and in no immediate danger, the elf bade Leliana good night and left soundlessly. Leliana mused briefly on how affable she had found the young woman, despite some of the other camp residents‘ complaints about her pranks involving their missing trousers being used as Inquisition banners. As she blew out the candles and left the fire to die to ashes, she heard Cassandra stir and murmur something in her sleep. In the green light filtering in through the narrow window, Leliana could see her companion‘s furrowed brow and parted lips; apparently, her fever dream was not a pleasant one. She got into her own bed and lay in the dark, staring into the green-toned darkness and pretending not to hear Cassandra mutter _Justinia._


	2. Chapter 2

Morning dawned bitter, the spill of sunlight across the frost cold and bronze rather than the syrupy golden dawns one might find at lower altitudes in warmer climes. Light dripped in through the narrow window, turning the walls honey coloured rather than the grim green Cassandra had grown accustomed to. Indeed, morning was the only time the breach seemed less encompassing, the steady absinthe pour of inauspicious viridian light momentarily quenched by a gilded sky. And there, lacy shadows playing across her pale skin, lay Leliana, dutiful even in sleep; a damp cloth dangled loosely from her hand, evidence of a disturbed and fitful sleep on Cassandra‘s part. Cassandra eased herself into a sitting position, wincing at the deep, aching pain in her arm she‘d noticed the moment she woke up; as the blankets slid down, she made to draw them back up, but found her hand remained useless, although she could move her arm again. _At the very least it works better than it did_, she mused. _That has to count for something._ Using her other arm, she pulled the blankets up and looked around the room helplessly. Evidently, she‘d be little use without Leliana to assist her over the next few days. However, now her arm was no longer numb, the pain in her shoulder was more apparent, and she found herself clenching her jaw every time she moved. Morbidly curious, she peeled away the bandages to look at the damage, and found much to her surprise the hole had healed to a large, puckered dent in her shoulder, purple scar tissue bright against her skin. As her eyes wandered, seeking at least some clothes so she could avoid the embarrassment of having her companion dress her as though she were a child, she spotted a small brown paper package next to her bedroll. Intrigued, she picked it up and examined it. A small note had been pinned to it, and she squinted to make out the messy scrawl.  
_Didn‘t even nick them. Went and asked Inky all proper like a tit. Still gave me some though. Hope you wake up soon._  
There was no name, but Cassandra did not have any difficulty identifying the gift giver; evidently, Sera had visited her. _Hope you wake up soon... _How long had she been asleep? Clumsily, she unwrapped the package and plucked out one of the sweets inside; they were exactly as Sera had described, pale pink, dusted with powdered sugar and they smelt just like the rose oil she wore. She couldn‘t help but smile slightly as she examined the offering, placing the package back at the side of her bedroll as she sampled the small sweet she had been studying. It was good, soft and sweet, flavoured delicately with rose. Cassandra imagined such exotic things were expensive and difficult to come by, though no doubt Vivienne knew where to procure such frivolities. _I must remember to thank the Inquisitor, _Cassandra thought to herself, savouring the last bite of the candy. _And Sera too. _She dressed slowly, finding her useless hand a nuisance, but was able to dress herself to a somewhat reasonable standard, though her clothing‘s lacings and fastenings had proven rather difficult. Leliana stirred and sat up.  
“Good morning,” she yawned, casting a disapproving eye over Cassandra. “I could have helped you, you know. How‘s your arm?”  
“It works well enough, though my hand is still useless,” she replied, waving her arm a bit to demonstrate and looking quite pleased with herself, but immediately regretting it when pain shot through her shoulder.  
“Glad to hear it, you‘ve had an awful few days. Nothing but fever and nightmares,” Leliana told her, turning her back to Cassandra to change.  
“I don‘t remember any of it,” admitted Cassandra. “It‘s no longer numb, I must admit I am not sure whether that‘s a good thing or not.”  
“Thanks to the medicine I got from Adan, the pain should be at least tolerable until it wears off,” Leliana said sympathetically. “And you slept through most of it, though Adan said that would be a side-effect of the poison, same with the fever. You were out for four days. Sera came by every day to ask how you were.”  
“Four days?” Cassandra asked incredulously, though she was touched when she heard Sera had visited. “How much have I missed?”  
“Not a lot, the Inquisitor has been out on recruitment missions, so the Inquisition has grown somewhat. That aside, nothing of note has happened,” Leliana answered, pinning her hood in place. “A mage came and healed the wound, so at the very least you don‘t have a gaping hole in your shoulder.”  
“I noticed,” said Cassandra drily. “I had hoped I would have regained full use of my arm if the wound had healed, but I‘m guessing whatever poison the bastard dipped his arrows in is still in my system.”  
“I am happy to help you whilst you recover, Cassandra,” Leliana said gently. “I understand it is”¦ frustrating. However, we shall remain busy and the time will pass faster than you realise.”  
Cassandra paused, studying Leliana‘s face, taken aback by the way her expression softened when she met her eyes. She slightly resented the look of pity she found there, though was touched at the same time; Leliana had not seemed so gentle and warm in a long time. She was steel, unbending and cold, though this unusual tenderness was not unwelcome. Indeed, Cassandra had noticed the Inquisitor‘s presence and morals had affected Leliana somewhat. She was less vengeful, mercy coming easier than it had before, and Cassandra found her heart warmed by it. Pain had embittered Leliana, yet to see glimpses of who she might have been before life wounded her was such a rare thing that the softening of her clearly broken heart felt all the more meaningful.  
“I... Thank you,” Cassandra replied sheepishly, though she still resented the fact she needed the assistance at all. Her shoulder twinged painfully as though to remind her of her own uselessness, and she set her jaw in consternation.  
“You know, you don‘t have to prove anything to anyone,” Leliana said, her tone light, though she avoided Cassandra‘s eyes. “You‘ve been wounded, it‘s only expected you would require some respite from combat whilst you recover.”  
“I have duty to attend to,” Cassandra said stiffly. “The Herald needs me on the field with her.”  
“The Herald is more than capable of taking care of herself,” Leliana answered, a note of reproval in her lilting voice. “Besides, perhaps this will force her to have some adaptability; working with one of our new recruits in your stead whilst you recover will be good for both the Inquisitor and the Inquisition. Come, we can still attend to war table matters despite your injury. Regardless of your own opinion, you are not useless without a sword in your hand, Cassandra.”  
Cassandra didn‘t respond, merely setting her mouth in a thin line and rubbing her arm in pained frustration. Grudgingly, she followed Leliana out of their shared quarters and to the war room, hoping she would not be greeted by pity or well-wishers, much preferring to simply get on with it.  
“Do try not to look so grim,” Leliana said, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “If you‘d really like to sulk, you‘re welcome to sit amongst my ravens and read sad poetry whilst I attend to some letters.”  
“Thank you for that charming insight on how you spend your evenings, but I‘d rather make myself as useful as I possibly can be,” Cassandra quipped. Leliana laughed, pretty as church bells, and for a moment, Cassandra felt as though the wall Leliana had permanently encased herself in had cracked, and sunlight was shining through. She found herself smiling; for the first time in a long time, they were no longer the Left and Right Hands, but friends, and it was a welcome feeling.

*******

“Here. See how your arm‘s broke?” Sera asked abruptly one day during Cassandra's recovery as they sipped honeywine, ate rose candy and sat on cushions on the floor of Cassandra‘s quarters. “Does that mean Leliana‘s got to be _your left hand_ until it‘s fixed? Get it? ”  
“If Leliana were truly my Left Hand, you would not make such remarks,” Cassandra informed her, raising her eyebrows slightly. “I thought you said she was _scary_?”  
“Nah, less scary now I‘ve seen her doting on you like she‘s your mum or something,” Sera shrugged, grinning. “Big pansy.”  
“She is not doting, she is assisting me whilst I am”¦ out of action,” Cassandra said, annoyed, though she had to work to keep from smiling slightly at Sera‘s insistence upon calling her a “pansy”.  
“Not slagging you, I‘d not mind it myself,” Sera mused, tipping a handful of the rose candies into her mouth and continuing to speak through the mouthful of sweets. “She‘s proper fit.”  
“I am sure she‘d be very flattered to hear you say so,” said Cassandra primly, cheeks colouring slightly. She was thankful Sera was paying more attention to the food than her facial expression. “Either way, she is nicer to look at than Adan and that is something.”  
“This is well good, getting to just fanny about and get drunk all day,” said Sera. “Here, do you reckon if I asked the Inquisitor to punch my arm until it‘s all shit like yours they‘d let me sit about with you?”  
“I do not _sit about and get drunk_!” Cassandra protested. “I have been engaged in numerous important political endeavours, today I just so happened to have spare time to enjoy some small comforts. Incidentally, I do not recall inviting you to join me.”  
“Least you‘re not trying to pretend you‘re busy all the time like Inky. _Not now Sera I have to go meet with the King of Arsetit! I don‘t have time to help you put bees in Cullen‘s armour, I need to go recruit some random plonker from somewhere shit nobody ever goes!_” Sera said, with what Cassandra had to admit was a relatively passable impression of the Inquisitor‘s accent. “It‘s good to rest, innit? Helps you get better faster. Not trying to say you‘re crap or anything.”  
“I- Thank you,” Cassandra said awkwardly, aware that she had just received something akin to an apology. “And to answer your previous question, I think you would find yourself hard pressed to persuade anybody to break your arm on purpose, Sera.”  
“Probably,” she replied thoughtfully, then made a face. “And I‘d probably just get somebody rubbish like Adan looking after me. And I wouldn‘t be able to use my bow. Nah, I think I‘ll leave it, quite happy with two working arms, thanks. I can just skive anyway, innit?”  
“Glad to hear it,” Cassandra said, though she didn‘t bother to suppress her smile this time. As odd as it was, she found the company of Sera comforting somehow. She was not initially the sort of person Cassandra had much patience for, and yet she found the girl rather charming in roguish sort of way. For all her swearing, protestations and assertions of independence, she had a winsome soul Cassandra found particularly endearing. Not to mention her bald-faced attempts at trying to gauge whether or not Leliana was “up for it” were particularly entertaining to watch, especially when the elf‘s remarks made even Leliana blush. At that moment, Cassandra‘s train of thought was interrupted as The Inquisitor burst into the room and made herself comfortable on the floor beside them, immediately seizing a handful of sweets and trickling them into her mouth from a height.  
“Happenin‘?” queried the Inquisitor through a mouthful of rose. “These are good.”  
“Nothing much,” Sera said, and Cassandra nodded in agreement, thoroughly bored of her time away from the field. “Are all Qunari sweets this good? Where do you get them anyway? I thought I‘d have nicked all yours by now.”  
“Not Qunari, we don‘t have sweets,” Adaar replied. “You‘ve been nicking them from me? I‘ve been nicking them from Vivienne.”  
“Oh for goodness‘ sake, has the Inquisition become a hotbed of moral iniquity so early into our reformation?” Cassandra sighed, exasperated. Sera and the Inquisitor simultaneously shrugged, then nodded, much to Cassandra‘s annoyance.  
“Say the motto again to remind us of the true meaning of the Inquisition, then,” said Sera slyly.  
“No.”  
Sera and the Inquisitor began to protest, but Cassandra was saved from their complaints by the appearance of Leliana who looked as pale and humourless as ever. The glimpses of sunlight beneath the armour she‘d crafted for herself were gone, and all traces of her smile had vanished. Cassandra immediately got to her feet, feeling as though she had been slacking off somehow, despite the fact she still couldn‘t lift her sword, let alone return to the field. Adaar and Sera bellowed delighted greetings and offered the spymaster some of their stolen confectionary, which she refused.  
“You‘re looking a lot less grey these days; the colour‘s coming back into your skin. I noticed this morning,” Leliana told Cassandra, stepping forward. She gestured to Cassandra‘s arm. “May I?”  
“Go ahead,” Cassandra said, opening her shirt and shrugging it off to show her wounded shoulder. Adaar made a strangled noise, but Sera gently reassured her that it was okay, the Seeker was at least wearing something underneath.  
“This time, anyway,” Sera whispered, collapsing into a giggle but abruptly falling silent as Cassandra glared at her.  
“I was injured and in need of medical aid!” Cassandra protested through gritted teeth, letting out a soft hiss of pain as Leliana continued to examine the scar tissue on her arm obliviously.  
“Nothing I haven‘t seen before,” Leliana said airily, and for a moment, Sera was speechless. However, the elf recovered quickly and proceeded to ask Leliana a variety of personal questions that were just variations on “does the carpet match the drapes”. Leliana did not deign to answer, though Cassandra swore she saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes when she glanced up to study Cassandra‘s facial responses to her touch as she examined the wound. As quick as she saw it, it was gone.  
“I‘m going to test the muscles on your arm now,” Leliana said softly. “This will be painful; will you be alright?”  
“I am always alright,” Cassandra assured her, whilst Sera and Adaar pretended to swoon in the background. Leliana‘s gaze lingered upon her curiously for a long moment before she nodded and removed her gloves. She looked oddly vulnerable without her gloves, her hands slender and delicate. Cassandra wondered how long it was since Leliana had last touched another person out of anything other than necessity, or allowed another person to touch her. When Leliana touched her, her hands were cold; she touched the strange, too-quickly-healed purplish scar with feather-light fingers, as though she was handling an incredibly old and valuable book, or trying to comfort a moth. Somehow, to Cassandra, the gentleness seemed a brief look at who she had once been; a clever-tongued bard, a reformed soul on the good path of the Maker, a woman who had known love and gloried in it. The Seeker looked away to hide the sudden sting of tears in her eyes as Leliana gently manoeuvred her arm to test the muscle repair, the pain sudden and unexpected despite the warning Leliana had given her. Cassandra inhaled sharply as Leliana placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face toward hers, as though she were about to kiss her.  
“Your eyes are the best indicator as to whether the poison is leaving you,” Leliana said, looking into her eyes with a concerned expression. “They are responding normally to light again, which tells me, along with the departure of your fever, that you should be fit to return to your duties soon, with some modifications.”  
Cassandra felt an odd sense of disappointment she couldn‘t explain. Satisfied Cassandra wasn‘t on the brink of death, Leliana excused herself, leaving only a vague invitation for Cassandra and the Inquisitor to come to the war table in the evening when they had a moment. Cassandra nodded mutely and sat quiet, staring at her still-useless hand. After Leliana and the Inquisitor left, the room was silent for a long moment.  
Something‘s eating you,” Sera asserted, reaching over to tentatively give Cassandra a little shove. “You‘ve went all weird, staring at your hand like you‘re mental.”  
“Nothing is bothering me,” Cassandra lied. “I am eager to return to duty; the continuing delay is merely”¦ irritating.”  
“You‘re gonna miss Creepy-Knifey-Stab hanging about with you,” Sera said confidently. “You were making friends.”  
“Leliana is”¦ too different,” Cassandra replied, avoiding Sera‘s point. “She doesn‘t make friends. Not anymore. I have heard tell of who she _was_; but who we know now is who she _is_. There is little to be had there.”  
“I reckon you‘re too quick to be happy to take what she gives you,” Sera said, laughing at Cassandra‘s confused facial expression. “Not in a dirty way. Like... Just little crumbs of friendship here and there. Tiny bits of her acting like a person. She‘s nicer when she‘s with you. Even Josephine says so, I heard her. Even if you don‘t believe she wants a friend, I always sort of thought if anybody was gonna try it‘d have to be somebody like you. And now you‘ve made me sound like a soppy fuckwit.”  
Cassandra didn‘t reply, much to Sera‘s frustration. She was too busy thinking about whether or not the elf girl was right; if she truly cared for Leliana, she would at least try, for her sake. In that moment, Cassandra understood what Sera meant by "feeling like a soppy fuckwit".


	3. Chapter 3

Cassandra let out a frustrated roar as she dropped her sword into the snow once again, kicking the handle and sending it skirling a few feet away in irritation.  
“Why are you holding it in the wrong hand?” asked Adaar. “You usually hold your sword in the other hand.”  
“The sword is lighter than the shield; once I am satisfied I can wield the sword, I shall practise with my shield,” the Seeker replied, retrieving her sword and giving the blade an almost apologetic look as she wiped the slush off the hilt with her sleeve. Haven had the misfortune of being permanently covered in a grim, greyish slurry of snow and dirt, churned together by constant activity. It was not the idyllic, snow-peppered storybook town Cassandra had envisioned.  
“Well if you‘re using the wrong hand, that‘ll explain why you‘re all shit, innit?” Sera said simply, looking up from her snow sculpture. It looked suspiciously lewd.  
“I am ambidextrous,” Cassandra said coldly. “It means I do not have a dominant hand, both are equally skilled.”  
“You could do two dicks at once,” Sera said thoughtfully. “Mental. No wonder some of the troops go all funny in the trousers when you're giving them pep talks.”  
“You could dual wield them,” added Adaar, grinning. Cassandra threw the pair of them a look of such unadulterated disgust that even the towering Qunari was cowed.  
“I do not want to dual wield... anything like that,” Cassandra said pointedly, attempting another swing at the practise dummy and slicing it clean in half, though she still let out a yelp of pain as the force of the blow vibrated up the blade and into the handle. However, her cheeks coloured slightly with happiness; progress, at last. At least this time she didn‘t drop it.  
“Perhaps make sure you can wield a single blade before attempting to dual wield anything,” suggested Leliana, appearing as if from nowhere. She was as cold and beautiful as the torn sky, inscrutable as ever. Sera jumped in surprise and stuck her elbow into one of the carefully crafted breasts of her naked lady snow sculpture. She glowered at Leliana, her brows knitting into an almost cartoonish scowl. Leliana looked unperturbed, her blue eyes frigid and devoid of feeling.  
“I- That is precisely what I am doing,” Cassandra said, irritated. “You just chose an unfortunate point in the conversation to materialise.”  
“To be fair you do like doing that,” Sera said, hastily trying to repair the damage to her creation. “Creeping about. Showing up at stupid bits and making everybody look daft.”  
“Sometimes I even do it on purpose,” Leliana said tonelessly though there was a slight glimmer in her eyes, and for a moment she seemed more human than she had in months. “However, I‘m here for a greater reason than simply to harass you; I‘ve come to ask you come to the war table, Cassandra. You too, Inquisitor.”  
“As you wish,” said Cassandra, sheathing her sword in a single fluid motion and hoping the wince of pain she experienced whilst doing so hadn‘t shown on her face. Adaar heaved herself out of the snow, groaning like a child asked to come inside from playing.  
“I would not interrupt you without good reason,” Leliana assured them, leading the way to the Chantry where Josephine awaited them by the door. Sera walked with them, but conveniently vanished without even a word of farewell when they reached their destination, leaving Cassandra feeling foolish when she turned around to tell the elf she might come to see her in the tavern later.

*******

“Or you could all stop bickering and make a decision,” Adaar snapped, letting out a huff of annoyance and furrowing her brow. Gathered in the halls of the Chantry, the Inquisition‘s advisors pressed Adaar for guidance. Cassandra watched, eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the proposals.  
“I agree,” added Josephine hesitantly. “We shouldn‘t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.”  
“They are powerful, ambassador, but more desperate than you realise,” Cassandra stated, glancing at the Inquisitor who sighed softly. No doubt Adaar was just as tired as hearing about mages as everybody else. They had become rather an insistently repetitive conversation topic.  
“So it‘ll be dangerous. I‘ve been in danger since I walked out of the Fade,” she shrugged.  
“If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave-” Cassandra began.  
“The same could be said about the templars,” interjected Josephine.  
“True enough, though I‘m not certain we have enough influence to approach the order safely,” Cullen advised, looking thoughtful. Cassandra glanced at Leliana, who watched the discussion expressionlessly, though her jaw tightened slightly.  
“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places. That‘s something you can help with,” Cassandra replied evenly.  
“In the mean time, we should consider other options,” stated Josephine, turning to return to her documents. The advisors nodded and stepped away, each intending to peruse their own information to best guide the Inquisitor on their next course of action. Leliana stepped forward to discuss something Adaar further and Cassandra politely moved out of earshot. For a moment, her eyes met Leliana‘s, and she did not miss her glancing toward her injured arm, though Leliana said nothing. Cassandra made her way out of the chantry, hoping the Inquisitor would perhaps agree to take her to Redcliffe in spite of her persistent injury. As she stepped out into the cold air, a gentle snowfall began, the flakes settling in her hair and on her shoulders. The sky was buff, tinted green by the breach, clouds silvered with snow.  
“You shouldn‘t go with her,” Leliana said, stepping out of the chantry to stand next to Cassandra. “I saw you practising; your arm is still bothering you.”  
“It‘s nothing,” Cassandra replied abruptly, waving away Leliana‘s concerns and walking smartly away from her, down toward the training area. Much to Cassandra‘s frustration, Leliana caught up in a few strides and fell into step beside her.  
“If it was nothing, I would not waste my time trying to help you,” she said simply, ignoring Cassandra‘s protestations. Cassandra bristled.  
“I can assure you, I am perfectly able to return to my duties. All I require is some peace and quiet to train; I have been out of the field for a fortnight now,” Cassandra shot back brusquely, trying to outpace Leliana and end the conversation. With an irritated sort of noise, Leliana grabbed Cassandra‘s shoulder and turned her to face her, immediately withdrawing her hand as Cassandra let out a cry of pain.  
“You‘re barely able to tolerate non-aggressive contact, let alone return to fighting,” Leliana chastised her, though she had the good grace to keep her voice low enough that their disagreement would not be heard by the curious troops standing nearby.  
“For somebody who is supposed to be concerned about my injuries, you are not very gentle with me,” Cassandra replied, rubbing her shoulder and scowling. “And you just... took me by surprise. It is a lot better than it was.”  
“I can tell the difference between pain and surprise,” Leliana responded coldly, though her tone was softer and she gently patted Cassandra‘s arm in a gesture of peace. “I hadn‘t intended to hurt you, truly. However, the fact still remains you are unfit for the field and sending you out like this wouldn‘t only endanger you, but everybody else depending on you.”  
Cassandra bit back an angry response; she hadn‘t thought of it like that. The Inquisitor and her field comrades, usually Sera and Vivienne, certainly were capable of holding their own, but she often bore the brunt of battle. It took her a moment to realise Leliana had started talking again.  
“Look, let me tend to your arm, and if it looks any better then perhaps we can train together,” Leliana suggested. “I would be happy to help you; I am not”¦ overly occupied at the moment. The Inquisitor has kept my agents busy, yes, but for now I have found a considerable lull in my activities.”  
Cassandra thought on Leliana‘s suggestion. If it would keep the spymaster from shadowing her every step, ensuring she was not over-reaching herself during her convalescence, then perhaps it was a better idea than it initially seemed. She narrowed her eyes, studying Leliana‘s face; as usual, she looked as though she was only partially listening, as though her mind was somewhere else, her expression impassive. That was something about Leliana Cassandra had never quite gotten used to, the sense that she seemed neither here nor there, exuding a deceptive aura of obliviousness yet at the same time hyper aware. It was an unsettling side effect, Cassandra presumed, of too long up to one‘s elbows in other people‘s blood. _Too much hardness. Too much bitterness in life can do funny things to a person, _Cassandra thought to herself, furrowing her brow.  
“I... would potentially be amenable to that,” Cassandra said warily. Since Justinia‘s death, Leliana had almost seemed to avoid her. Cassandra would not have been surprised; no doubt she served as a continuing reminder of her deceased mentor and the circumstance of her passing. Cassandra understood her pain better than anybody else could, and out of a combination of that understanding and respect, had allowed Leliana to grieve in peace. She had become disembodied, crippled. What use was a Left Hand without a wielder? Without instruction and without faith, Leliana had been cast adrift by circumstance and a God who seemed to have turned his back on her. Leliana looked at her with something like slight victory in her eyes, though her face was mostly unreadable.  
“Good. I will find you tomorrow and we can begin,” she said. “I‘m sorry I hurt you.”  
“It is alright... Perhaps it is the best way to make me listen,” Cassandra replied, pleased to see Leliana offer a very slight smile in response before she turned and walked away. The moment Leliana had left her, it felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest, or a storm had passed, like the air was somehow thinner and colder than it had been. As she readied her sword in her injured hand, her shield on the other, Cassandra made her way over to the practise dummies, still thinking about Leliana. The tension there worried her; of course a discussion about Justinia‘s fate and their feelings between the two of them was inevitable, but the longer it could be postponed, the better in Cassandra‘s opinion. In that moment, however, Cassandra was distracted from sorting through the internal maelstrom of disorganised thoughts that had plagued her since the events of the Conclave by an enormous snowball striking her squarely in the centre of the chest. She looked around quickly, ready to visit a truly horrific wrath upon whichever unfortunate soul had decided throwing snowballs at one of the most formidable women in the Inquisition was a good idea. However, she was surprised to see the Inquisitor a few feet behind her, readying a volley of Qunari sized snowballs. She was about to ask how the Inquisitor had managed to hit her in the front from behind her when she heard a familiar cackle that belied Sera‘s presence somewhere nearby, probably on a roof.  
“Combat training,” the Inquisitor announced. “We‘ll help you.”  
“This is not the best way to help me,” Cassandra said, raising her shield just in time. The snow splattered into fine powder against the burnished metal, sending tiny, glittering specks of snow whirling around her, melting into the rapidly increasing blizzard. Adaar and Sera ignored her, proceeding to pelt her viciously with snowballs that she attempted to deflect.  
“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, knocking a well-aimed throw of Sera‘s back in a cloud of white with her sword, her arm twinging. “Have you decided who will accompany you to Redcliffe?”  
The Inquisitor froze, and Cassandra heard what was unmistakably Sera dropping an armful of snowballs off a roof and scuttling away. Clearly, this was about to become an awkward conversation. Adaar had remained still, her armful of snow melting rapidly against her chest and darkening her shirt. She looked dumbstruck, seeming smaller somehow despite being easily several feet taller than Cassandra, shrinking in her sudden desire to be anywhere but in Cassandra‘s line of vision.  
“Er... Yes, actually,” Adaar cleared her throat and tried to look authoritative. “I‘ve got an idea.”  
“And?” Cassandra pressed, lowering her sword and shield and narrowing her eyes. Adaar fidgeted, looking anywhere but Cassandra‘s face. She felt a distinct sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach; it seemed the Inquisitor agreed with Leliana that she was not yet recovered enough to return to the field. Adaar squared her shoulders, and for a moment Cassandra internally congratulated the Inquisitor for standing up for herself though she remained disappointed; she knew what was coming.  
“In light of your arm still being... uh... shit,” Adaar began cautiously. “I think it would be best for you- I mean, the Inquisition, if you uh... stayed here. To recover I mean. So you can start coming with me again.”  
Cassandra paused for a long moment, frustrated, but she knew there was no arguing; as anxious as Adaar was, the Qunari‘s face suggested there was no room for change to her plans. She sheathed her sword and ran a hand through her hair, internally cursing her persistent wound.  
“Who are you bringing instead?” she tried to sound nonchalant, but the note of irritation lent an edge to her voice.  
“Bull, Vivienne and Sera,” Adaar replied. “I‘d have liked to have had you accompany us, there‘s not a swordarm as good as yours in all of Thedas, but Leliana‘s right. You need to rest.”  
Cassandra conceded with a shrug, making to leave, before Adaar stopped her.  
“I‘m sorry, you know,” the Inquisitor added, awkwardly clapping Cassandra on the shoulder.  
“I understand, Inquisitor,” Cassandra reassured her. “I will return to your side when I am fully recovered, and until then, I shall do my best to be useful to the Inquisition in other ways.”  
Adaar nodded, looking relieved at Cassandra‘s acceptance of the situation. She offered Cassandra a parting word and left to go find Sera, dropping her remaining snowballs on the way. Cassandra stood still for a few moments, processing the situation. She looked down at her arm with a grimace before striding back in the direction of her quarters, entirely disenchanted with the notion of practising with her weapons further. She felt castrated, weak in mind and body, for the first time in years. Truly, she had never felt as powerless as she had after the events of the Conclave, though her wound‘s effects upon her part in the Inquisitor‘s work left her with a similar sensation of being obsolete, a figurehead with no real purpose beyond that.

*******

Upon her return to her room, she grit her teeth and set about undressing, writing the day off as a lost cause. Perhaps Adan would have something that would at least dull the constant, gnawing ache of her shoulder. Though the flesh had been magically knitted together, the poison had left her scarred and her muscles weak. Initially, the agony of even moving her arm when the paralysis left her had been too much to bear, and whilst she could at least move without significant issue, an albeit lesser pain remained. She thought of Leliana, and suddenly felt uncomfortable. The knowledge that Leliana had bandaged her wounds and sat at her bedside during the initial stages of her convalescence still made her feel rather peculiar; the idea of anybody seeing her so helpless chilled her to the bone. Even now, she was ashamed that she had been forced to step down. The knowledge that, if she were to enter into battle now, she would likely struggle, bothered her deeply. She let out a long hiss of annoyance and flopped backward onto her bedroll. Part of her wanted to redress and return to fruitlessly hacking at the practise dummies, but she ignored the temptation. Leliana, as much as she was loathe to admit it, was right; all she could do was wait it out. Outside, the snowfall increased, tinted green by the light of the Breach. The split sky was an ever present reminder that Cassandra had not only failed Justinia, but now she was failing the Inquisitor too. She rolled onto her side and turned away from the window, closing her eyes and trying to imagine a sky that didn‘t bleed verdant light or remind her that no matter where she went and what she did, she would forever be as helpless as the day Anthony was taken from her. When sleep finally took her, her dreams were troubled with her brother‘s bloodied face, with Justinia‘s cries for help. She stood in the ruins of the Conclave, unable to raise her sword against the mages slaughtering her brother, against the shadowy force consuming Justinia, against the prowling, blackened demons lurking in the periphery of her vision. A beatific figure who might have been Andraste, but looked more like Leliana, took her hand and led her upward and out of the ruins. Red lyrium grew in great, twisted, crystalline shards from her wounded shoulder. When she woke up, it was the middle of the night and Haven stood still. The sky was still green and her arm ached more than ever.

  



End file.
